Scarlet Signs of Death
by theflawintheplan
Summary: Mandark finds a small redhead abandoned in an alleyway and takes him in, wondering who would could do such a thing to a kid. But the teen's mysterious past unravels, causing Mandark to question the once thick line between good and evil. Slash, Dexdark-ish
1. Chapter 1

Grey puffs of smoke mingled flirtatiously with the evening fog. A bird somewhere in the distance called to its mate and the sound carried over the sleeping city, for everyone, save for one man, was in bed with loved ones surrounding them. The lone man wandered the streets, hurrying to get home after a particularly tiresome meeting. His shoes slapped the pavement, but the water on the cement muffled the sounds he made. Ahead, a large crash sounded, and the man held a hand close to his belt, his footsteps sounding even faster and quieter now. He slowed in relief as he found the source of the crash a few streets ahead of him. There had been an increase in crime the past three months and so the man had not been sure the noise was friendly. However, he found no threat in the drunken man that stumbled around the streets.

Suddenly the drunk jerked his attention toward one of the many alleys, stepping forward curiously. When the first man heard very human-sounding whimpering coming from the alley's opening, his hand immediately went for his waist again and he strode toward the drunken man to investigate.

The drunk looked at the man walking toward him, and seeing the lowered limb, quickly held up his own hands. " 'Ey officer," he slurred, obviously mistaking the sober man for a cop, "I...I didn't...do anyt'ing to 'im, 'e's jus'...." He trailed off in confusion as the other man shoved him aside to look in the alleyway. What he found made his heart stop.

A small figure, a girl who looked to be about thirteen, was crouched low to the ground. Her body was scrawny and thin, as if she had not eaten for a while and her scraggy rags, barely resembling clothes, hung to her frame like dirty, forgotten sheets. Grey eyes squinted curiously at the new face that peered through the darkness at her and the orbs were framed by smudged lenses and bent frames.

The man tried to reach for the girl but she only whimpered and pulled away from the outstretched fingers. She winced as her arm hit the pavement behind her and the man had a suspicion that she broke the limb a while back. He decided not to try touching her again.

The girl, aware of the man's new plan, continue to gaze at him with eerily bright and questioning eyes, almost as if wondering why the adult even bothered to care about her. She occasionally looked up at the drunk with worried glances and the first man did not take long to understand.

"Go home," he told the man towering over him. The intoxicated man took offense for the first time that night.

"I dohn't see why I...need to, offic...er..." the slurs were laced with a smug air. "I 'ave jus' asss muchhhh rahgt to," he hiccuped loudly and pointed at the pavement, "be _'ere_ as _you_ do...."

"Go home," he repeated forcefully, lightly fingering his belt once more. The other turned and ran, tripping and fumbling for his balance again. Soon enough he was out of sight and the first man turned back to the girl.

"I'm Mandark," he informed cordially, hoping to coax her out with kindness. The girl began breathing hard, retreating even further back into the darkness.

"D...Dex...ter," and Mandark heard no more out of the girl as the child was lost to a dark not unlike the one surrounding her.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Waking up, he looked around in wild confusion. Where was he? Why was he here...? He immediately feigned slumber as heavy footsteps-the boy guessed they were made by an adult-sounded, stopping at his side.

"Still not awake?" A voice asked softly. The boy on the couch almost gaped in wonder at the kind tone. He did not trust the voice however-he had no reason to.

He chose to stay silent.

The footsteps soon retreated and Dexter slowly opened his eyes and cautiously looked around again. What if the man had not really gone? His cloudy orbs met no human figures in the room, but he still hesitated to sit up. As he did, he noted his change in clothing. Instead of the baggy, ragged t-shirt and shorts he had been in before, he was now clad in a loose-fitting white plaid shirt and jeans. His hands flew over his body, checking every miniscule detail. What if that man had touched him? What if he still wanted to...?

"Oh, so you are awake!"

Dexter looked up, clutching his chest in alarm as the man smiled down at him. The grey eyes slowly became slits as he refused to give an inch to the person before him. Whatever-his-name-was frowned a little and when the smile returned, it was more sympathetic than anything and Dexter hated it.

"What happened to you?"

Dexter's eyebrows lowered even more. "Nothing happened to me that I need to tell you about." He could tell the man was not only surprised by his hostile tone and the Russian that thickened the angrier he got, but also by the fact that he was a boy who looked increasingly like a girl as he grew older.

The guy who had obviously kidnapped him gaped. "You're a boy?"

Dexter bristled, but did not say anything. He did not like talking to strangers any more than he had to, and this man had obviously figured out he was a boy by now. The man's shocked expression wore away and the grin made another appearance.

"It's no matter at the present moment. I already informed the police that you were here and they asked me to watch you until they found a suitable place for you." Dexter's anger did not fade. The police wanted him to stay with this man until they found time to "look for" his so-called suitable place.

The man went on, not noticing Dexter's feelings. "I gladly accepted the offer."

Of course he did.

"Dexter, was it?" The boy gave a curt nod.

"Do you remember my name?" The boy thought for a couple of seconds before shaking his head. "I'm Mandark." Once again, the older male was taken by surprise at the other's reaction, but not by much.

Dexter laughed cruelly. "What kind of name is Mandark?" He questioned without thinking. Mandark's eyes closed as he practically sighed his response.

"I didn't like the name my parents gave me, so I made myself new name. It stuck with me into adulthood."

"That's so stupid!" But if Dexter was hoping to make the man angry, he was sorely disappointed as the man joined in. What was wrong with this man?

Despite himself, Dexter yawned and Mandark glanced at his watch. "It's already 2 am." He noted with some shock. Dexter had to think that this man was constantly surprised by the world around him. The man's, Mandark or whatever, next statement broke him from his thoughts.

"Nine is your bedtime while you're living here."

Not wanting to waste energy with words, Dexter simply fixed the man with a disbelieving stare.

Mandark laughed. "Yep, you better believe it. Goodnight, Dexter." He turned to leave, but he apparently thought of something as he faced the boy again. "Don't forget to turm out the lamp when you get settled." Dexter must have given him a questioning look because a new grin spread over the man's face as he pointed somewhere behind Dexter's head. The grey-eyed boy turned to see an old-fashioned lamp he had not noticed before sitting on a small, couch-side table.

Mandark said goodnight again and then finally left and Dexter uneasily settled into the shockingly comfortable couch cushions. After a few minutes of internal debate, he reached behind his head and turned off the ancient-looking lamp. He peered through the darkness in terror; watching as the shadows seemed to drift closer, wisps of ebony taunting him by remaining at his side while never quite grasping him to take him back to that place.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

A/N: So for any of you guys who are worrying about pedophilia, don't. Dexter's older than he looks and besides, I'm not sure how this story will develop....By the way, my friend read this story and thought that it was funny and that the drunk man should make another appearance. What do you guys think of the story?

**(It's rated M because of Dexter's past, not because of Mandark and Dexter's relationship...maybe)**

**I PROMISE NOT TO GET MAD AT ANY CRITISM, JUST TELL ME HOW IT WENT!**

Au revoir!

~theflawintheplan


	2. Chapter 2

_"Dexter...where are you...?"_

"Dexter, are you okay?"

_"You know I'll find you...."_

"Dexter? What's wrong?"

_'I can't doubt that he'll find me if he really wants to. He's done it before."_

"Dexter!" Mandark called in concern. Dexter turned toward him, but the pallid colour in his face refused to disappear. "What's wrong?"

The boy gazed at him in confusion, as if not quite understanding who was leaning over him. When he finally calmed down, he took in the worried dark green eyes to his side. His own grey orbs traveled across the slightly pocked cheeks to the nearly too-large ears, down to the smoother neck, down to the slender, almost lanky figure. '_He's actually kind of good-looking-in his own way of course,_' Dexter decided, '_but still not trustworthy._'

He chose to stay silent for now.

Mandark straightened in frustration. Why wouldn't this boy talk to him? "Listen Dexter, I want to help you, but I can't do that if you won't help me."

Dexter thought that was the stupidest thing he had ever heard. Who ever helped someone help them?

"I don't have to do anything."

To Dexter annoyance and slight confusion, Mandark scowled for only a moment before he chuckled. "You know, you're right. You really don't have to talk to me if you don't want to. That's your choice." He suddenly turned serious. "However, that's a pretty lonely choice to make."

Dexter shrugged, hoping Mandark would leave him alone if he gave him simple answers.

"Dexter...." Mandark looked as if he wanted to go on, but he closed his mouth with a sigh. Once again he left his charge alone in the room, and Dexter felt momentarily relieved before looking around the room uneasily, much like he had the night before. Suddenly the room smelled damp and musty and the walls seemed to spin and blur before his eyes.

He breathing became laboured and a door appeared on the new walls. When it opened, Dexter found himself crouched on the floor, waiting for A Man to come and claim him....

A hand brought him back to himself and Dexter once again gazed into the forest green eyes of his "captor".

"Are you okay?"

Dexter ripped the hand off his shoulder. "Did you ever get the impression I wasn't okay?"

Mandark hesitated, knowing this kid did not like to feel vulnerable. "Well, you were whimpering and crying out, so I thought maybe you were in some kind of trouble."

"Well, I'm fine, as you can see." Dexter turned into the couch, attempting to hide his still-shaken expression. He hated how this man seemed to pull the words out of Dexter, coaxing him into longer conversations. "Can you leave now?"

"I thought maybe I could take you outside today."

Dexter faced the raven just enough to show one sceptically glaring eye.

"I mean, if you don't want to, that's fine too. I'll just stay in my lab and work on trying to discover a new scientific breakthrough or something."

Dexter's eyes lit up. "Lab?" He whispered.

Thinking he was finally getting through to the boy, Mandark grinned. "Yeah, do you want to check it out?"

Just as soon as the interest appeared, however, it faded from view.

"No. Just leave me alone."

Mandark's shoulders slumped and he sighed. "Alright then Dexter, if you need me the lab is toward the back of the house. There's a small door inside the hallway closet and that's the entrance."

Dexter turned back into the couch and Mandark hoped he would soon be intrigued by the lab again.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Mandark used the sleeve of his white lab coat to wipe the sweat from his brow. It had been four hours since he had told Dexter about the lab and, to his extreme disappointment, the boy had not come in to see it during that time frame. He set down the two test tubes he had in his hand as he realised that it was way past dinnertime.

He jumped out of his chair and ran for the door, barely remembering to shed the white garment and hand it to the shabby robot that was meant to act as a coat rack. As he stepped into the closet, his foot caught on a shirt on the floor, causing him to emerge from the small room none too gracefully. Considering he just face planted into his own floor, Mandark was in a large amount of pain and so he chose not to get up at the moment.

"Nice," a voice issued from above him. Mandark lifted his face just enough to turn his head and look up at his addresser.

Dexter.

"Hello," Mandark greeted. The younger male noted how his voice sounded a little pained.

Dexter rolled his eyes at this man's incompetence. "What are you doing?"

Mandark paused. "Er...trying to fix you dinner?"

"At..." Dexter checked a nearby wall clock, "ten 'o clock at night?" Mandark wondered at the stern, almost maternal tone to Dexter's words.

"Besides, I already ate." Dexter sighed at the look Mandark gave him and proceeded to explain to the brunette on the ground. "I figured you were getting distracted in that _fabulous_ lab of yours," Mandark glared involuntarily here, "so I made myself a burger with some hamburger meat, various condiments, and vegetables I found in the refrigerator. It's not a big deal."

"I wanted us to eat together so I could learn more about you...." The man lying down mumbled.

Dexter raised his eyebrows. "Whatever." Figuring he had talked enough, Dexter turned to leave, but shuffling sounds stopped him. He faced Mandark again to find the man was standing up.

"Why are you still up?" The brunette asked, tilting his head to the side. "You should have been asleep an hour ago."

The grey eyes rolled to look at the ceiling and then at the set of forest green orbs. "I was sleeping on the couch when I heard the thud. I wanted to know what had happened."

That was not the entire truth, though. Dexter had seen a shadow in the window right before hearing the crash and wanted to investigate because he thought The Man had come for him. An investigation he came prepared for with the butcher's knife that was currently being hidden behind his back. Mandark did not notice the limb that was bent behind the redhead, so he did not ask about it.

"How about I show you to your new room?" He smiled, but Dexter did not return the gesture. Instead he only shrugged and stepped to the side, using his arms to tell Mandark to lead the way. They went down the hall, past various pictures of Mandark; up the stairs, where there were more pictures of Young Mandark-_seriously, how arrogant could you get?-_and it just reminded Dexter of The Man.

"This is your new room." Mandark said grandly, opening a door further on down the hall from the top of the stairs. The ginger teen looked in and walked around, trying to mesmorise where everything was located in this foreign bedroom. Once he was satisfied, he practically shoved a confused Mandark out of the door before slamming the door in his face.

Dexter slid down the the closed door and tossed the knife across the floor once he was completely alone in his new room. He sat in somewhat of a fetal position and wrapped his thin arms around his legs, quietly pondering his situation. He had no home or family, he could not go back to the streets for fear that _he _would eventually find him.

What could he do? How could he escape the clutches and watchful eye of this new "master"?

Dexter allowed a small amount of self pity to swell in his chest; he could not bear the fact that two men did not want to leave him alone and constantly wanted to know his whereabouts.

He would never again know the happiness he once had.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

A/N: Whew! Another chappie fresh off the press! How did you like it? Was it as enjoyable as the first chapter? I know the ending was crap, but what other thoughts do you have? I'd love to know! XD

Anyway, for those who are interested, here's a preview for the next chapter!

**Red eyes peered down at Dexter's small frame with a wide smile dancing within those shining orbs. The look scared Dexter, so he ran to his mom to hide behind. However, she disappeared suddenly and The Evil Man grabbed Dexter by the chin, forcing the young boy to gaze into his evil eyes. The red irises came closer...closer...The Evil Man's fowl breath was close enough to taste....**

**Dexter watched the red flames consume every inch of his beloved home, licking at the wood as if savoring a particularly enticing dish. The boy stepped closer to fire, allowing the heat to stain his face forever with the salty liquid that comforted and caressed his cheeks. He called to Them-"Mama!" "Papa!" "Sister!"-but They didn't answer.**

**And The Man whisked Dexter away....**

So tell me what you think of the story so far. I dying to hear from you all!

A plus tard! (Again I'm sorry, but the software I use won't let me put in special characters.)

~theflawintheplan


	3. Chapter 3

_Red eyes peered down at Dexter's small frame, a wide smile dancing within those shining orbs. The red seemed to engulf Dexter, seemed to surround him and set him on fire. The look scared Dexter and he ran to his mother to hide behind. She tried to comfort him and protect him from The Man who wanted him. However, she disappeared suddenly and The Evil Man grabbed Dexter by the chin, forcing the young boy to gaze into his evil eyes. The red irises came closer…closer…. The Evil Man's fowl breath was close enough to taste…._

_Dexter watched the flames consume every inch of his beloved home, licking at the wood as if savoring a particularly enticing dish. He gasped tiny breaths into his mouth. He tried to understand how exactly his family had been ripped away from him. The boy stepped even closer to the fire, allowing the heat to stain his face forever with the salty liquid that had comforted and caressed his cheeks. He called to them-"Mama!" "Papa!" "Sister!"-but They did not answer._

_And The Man whisked Dexter away…._

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Dexter woke up, finding himself sitting up and crying into someone's shoulder…. Someone holding him tightly as though not to let him go again. He flailed wildly, trying to beat the person off.

"Dexter, Dexter! Calm down!"

Deaf to their pleas, he continued to strike at any part of the other's body he could reach. Which admittedly, was not a lot after the person grabbed a hold of his arms.

"Dexter!"

Dexter finally calmed down enough to actually look into the eyes of his captor. When he recognised Mandark, he launched himself at the man again. Mandark braced himself for another attack, so he was pleasantly surprised when Dexter was actually…hugged him. He shook his head and told himself to focus on the task at hand: comforting the boy before him.

"What happened?"

"The Man," Dexter cried, and Mandark was once again surprised at his accent, but not as much as he was when he felt wet liquid on his shoulder.

Dexter was…_crying_.

"Look Dexter, I don't know who you're talking about, but I promise he won't get to you."

"No!" The boy screamed, and Mandark struggled not to cover his ears in an effort to block out the sound. "He always finds me. Even when he acts like he's tired of me and sends me away, eventually he misses me and comes for me. And when he does, I honestly don't know what he'll do to you." Dexter looked up into Mandark's eyes almost pleadingly. He did not know why he cared so much for the man in front of him, but he clung even tighter to him as the last sentence escaped his lips. Mandark's eyes turned into dinner plates. He ran his hand through Dexter's hair slowly in an attempt to calm him down. A few minutes later, the younger finally dried his eyes. Something in their grey depths told the latter that the boy was hungry.

"Would you like some breakfast?"

Up until this point, Dexter had been off in his own world, actually enjoying the formerly familiar feeling of a friend or loved one comforting you. That is, until Mandark ripped the redhead away from his pleasant thoughts and he remembered that this man did not _truly_ care for him. How could he? He did not know who Dexter was or what he used to be. He was only trying to shove him off on the police as soon as they could step out of their oh-so-busy schedules to come and find that there's nothing wrong with Dexter staying in a foster home so they then try to shove him off onto some family who pretends to want him until no one else is around so they can throw him away and he ends up back on the streets. And the cycle would start again, with a few variations here and there, but the main picture would stay the same. He knew how people worked and how they thought, he had gotten used to figuring it out over the years. He shoved Mandark away-the suddenness of the action causing Mandark to blink-and stalked down the stairs toward the kitchen.

In regards to his earlier question, the scientist chose to take this as an affirmative.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

"How are you doing lately?" Mandark asked over the now cold eggs. Dexter just stared dully at him from across the table, not uttering a single word in response and hoping small daggers were piercing into his heart so that he would stop pretending to care.

"So…do you want to tell me what that dream was about?" Dexter's eyes flew open in a glare that Mandark had never known a mere mortal could give a person. "I mean, I'm not trying to pry, I just thought it might help you forget about it."

Dexter imagined this idea was about as brilliant as the one Mandark came up with about people helping others help them. His eyes showed his scepticism and he hoped Mandark would get the message. The older male did not give up, however. "I noticed you aren't talking to me as much as you have been lately. Is this because of the dream?" Dexter's stare intensified more than it let up. He would not allow this man to think he was breaking down any of the redhead's walls and he would _not_ answer to anything the man said or asked.

Mandark looked to the upper left side of the room, thinking. "You know, I still don't know your last name…." Why did he ask the question? He did not really know the answer, he just hoped he could learn _something_ about the boy he was watching for the time being. He cleared his throat awkwardly and before either of them could decide what Dexter was going to say, an interruption came in the form of a knock on the door. The raven glanced at Dexter who was staring at the door in avid anticipation and fear, hidden badly behind a resigned expression. They both knew he expected the end of his world to be on the other side of that door. The scientist could not help but answer the knock though-it would be rude not to.

As he stood, Dexter's eyes flicked over to his, silently pleading with the older to sit back down and ignore the sudden visitor with him. Mandark hesitated-after all, he did not want the kid to completely freak out on him-but the person knocked again and the man could not find it within himself to act like he did not know the other was outside. He went over to the door and Dexter found himself trying to blow the raven man up with his glares while simultaneously attempting to turn invisible under the kitchen table.

"Hello, can I help you?" Mandark greeted as he swung the wood back. He was surprised at the little man in a lab coat who stood in his doorway, impatiently holding out a crème-colored envelope. As Mandark took the offered object, the other man swiftly turned on his heel and shuffled back down the drive, ignoring any pleas Mandark had about what was contained in the envelope. Mandark went back inside, slightly confused as he slid a slim finger underneath the flap.

Sensing no trouble, Dexter slowly edged out of his hiding spot, only to dive back under when Mandark cried out. The boy stared in half fright as the man dropped a letter to the floor and ran from the room to, most likely, the small door in the hall closet. The redheaded boy waited a few minutes before finally deciding it was safe to come out.

He made his way over to the piece of paper and picked it up. He looked around to see if anyone was watching him-it had been so long since he was able to read something-and slowly read the words out loud.

_Dear Candidate,_

_We have heard good things about your potential and have come to think you would be a great asset to the Scientists' Guild. For centuries, we have prided ourselves in continuing the work of such minds as Da Vinci, Einstein, Edison, and many others. The Scientists' Guild uses the name of science to solve major issues around the globe._

_We would like to cordially invite you to attend the next meeting of these highly esteemed scientists on the sixth of June. All you have to do to join this group of world leaders is create a useful and efficient invention or other such things of value that would officially prove yourself worthy of earning a place in our prestigious ranks._

_The Guild_

So it was not really a letter, Dexter realised, it was more like a note. However, he dropped this note in surprise (trying not to think how his reaction was similar to Mandark's) and looked toward the doorway Mandark had disappeared through only minutes ago. He had not known there was such a prestigious group of scientists. If he could only….

'_No,' _Dexter told himself firmly. _'I was forced to give up science a long time ago. I'm not going to get sucked back into its tantalizing lure only for The Man to find me again and rip me away from the only thing I have left. It's _not_ happening again.' _He focused once again on the fact that the Guild not wanted Dexter in the first place, they had wanted Mandark.

Dexter frowned. How was that bumbling klutz allowed to join such a respectable collection of scientists? He tried to convince himself that he no longer cared about Mandark's affairs. That what he really wanted to do right now was to go for a walk.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Mandark sighed as the umpteenth robot spontaneously burst into flames while it was trying to assist Mandark in his cancer-fighting endeavours. He glanced at the lab's clock and noticed it was nearly lunchtime.

"Well, I suppose I should get to the kitchen and start making Dexter some lunch. He's bound to be hungry by now, especially since he didn't truly eat his breakfast." He stood up and stretched, looking over at the destroyed bot in sympathy and disappointment. He used to be extremely good, good enough to think conceited thoughts of how the Guild would be knocking his door down at any second, but now…something went wrong with him. It seemed as though everything he touched now either burst into flames or overheated or malfunctioned or…well, you get the picture. Nothing went right for him anymore, and he did not know why.

He salvaged a few parts of the robot that could still be used and patted them with an almost paternal affection. He set them on his work table and walked over to the front of the laboratory, crawling back through the entrance.

"Dexter!" He called. "Dexter, it's time for some lunch!"

As he walked through the house calling the boy's name, Mandark's confusion gradually turned to fear as he realised Dexter was nowhere near the property. He ran into the front room and snatched up the phone, dialing a number as fast as his fingers would allow him to.

"Hello, this is 911. What's your emergency?" A bored-yet attempting to at least feign friendless-voice answered the phone.

"Yes, hello? I'm pretty sure the boy who I was watching for the police department has run away."

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Dexter strolled through the streets, memorising his surroundings. There was a park to his left side, on the other side of the street. There seemed to be an ever-present fog permeating the city's streets. Why was there always mist swirling around the labyrinth of the city? Was God-if there even _was_ an all-powerful Deity watching over everything-trying to hide the crime and pain that was expected in a large city? Dexter looked up and realised the fog came from pulled-down clouds that combined with the poisonous weapon known simply as "smog." Dexter smiled to himself. He smiled to think that something so lethal could be compared to God's blanket over sin. The metaphor just fit so nicely.

More pleasant things began to go unnoticed as Dexter burned more tragic thoughts and scenes into his brilliant memory. There was a squirrel trying to escape the clutches of a large dog, playing a vicious game of break-the-other's-neck-before-it-can-break-yours. An orange skeleton of a cat slinked out from the shadows of an alleyway, trotting alongside Dexter and occasionally slipping in between his legs-an attempt to elicit sympathy from Dexter at how thin it was. Dexter kept looking ahead, watching as a bony woman on the forgotten side of the train tracks tried to give her child a piece of bread. However, the small child continued to push the disintegrating crumbs away as she complained of stomach pains.

The cat meowed loudly so that Dexter looked down at it sternly. "_Monsieur Chat, je n'ai pas les aliments pour vous! Allez!"_ Dexter did not know why he chose to speak in French or German when reprimanding something or someone, but something about yelling in those two languages while his Russian accent grew in thickness made his voice sound much more severe. Besides, he had taught himself French and German years ago in order to please The Man and The…he described Them as foreign, potential Buyers. He might as well use them. The cat, however, only flinched once before meowing again. Dexter sighed and kneeled in front of the starving creature.

"I wish I could help you, _M. Chat Delesentier_, but I have nothing for you. That's the truth." The cat seemed to understand and blinked haunted eyes at the boy before scurrying back to the alley.

Dexter blinked. He felt slightly disgusted with himself when he was relieved at the cat's absence. It must have been how everyone else the boy knew over the years felt when they finally got rid of him. How Mandark will feel…. Dexter tried to convince himself that there was nothing he could have done for the poor creature, but now that the cat was gone he was not so sure. He had gone half of a city block more when he realised a car was trying to subtly follow him.

Recognising it immediately as an undercover cop car, the redhead started to increase his pace, outwardly showing his distress. Ever since he was taken by The Man, he was ingrained with a fear being captured by the police. The car sped up as well and soon enough Dexter was running through the streets, the image of being chased by a squad car, his age, and the fact he was wearing too big of clothes earned Dexter dirty stares from the older citizens. He did not truly mind this however-he could not waste time returning the favour and besides that, they were not that far off the mark.

He turned a corner, and found himself in an alleyway's end. He turned without stopping in his run, only to find the car had blocked his only entrance. He skidded to an abrupt stop as two officers emerged from the vehicle and Dexter paled as he recognised one of them. The cop he knew remembered Dexter as well.

"Oh my God…"

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Mandark paced between the front door and the land line, waiting for any news at all about Dexter. Three minutes went by…fourteen minutes went by…twenty-six minutes…thirty-one…thirty-three…thirty-seven…. Finally, just as the raven thought he would go mad with fret, a knock sounded at the door.

Mandark was there in two seconds flat.

"Yes?"

And there, to his immense relief, was a glaring ginger boy accompanied by two police officers on either side.

Mandark's eyes scanned the boy he had quickly grown fond of over the course of the past couple of days. He grinned with relief as it seemed Dexter had returned to him in one piece. Dexter shook each hand from his shoulders and brushed past Mandark into the house.

"Thank you," he smiled at the pair of officers again. "Thank you so much, Officers…?"

They cleared their throats as they straightened their shoulders, trying for a more experienced and professional appearance. Dexter rolled his eyes sceptically. He knew these two fools were only rookies at best.

"I'm Officer Allen Young," the blond man with hazel eyes claimed. His eyes shone with a confidence and cocky attitude that Dexter did not feel should be there. However, Young's partner did not allow Dexter's analysis of one person to last very long.

"Officer Douglas Mordecai." As he introduced himself, Dexter's steely eyes travelled to the man's face. He had medium brown hair that looked as if it were originally styled in a bowl cut until it had grown out in the back and along the sides. His muddy eyes, being extremely similar to Dexter's, were hidden behind bulky frames that were in much better shape than the teenager's. He refused to meet the boy's hard gaze, instead staring intensely at the man before him, letting out a nervous chortle.

"At your service."

Dexter rolled his eyes once again as Young and Mandark laughed at the pathetic joke. Honestly, was he surrounded by imbeciles? He switched his glare between Mandark and Mordecai, wishing the pinnacles of the men's bodies would explode.

God gave him no such luck.

Dexter wondered why irony and fate liked to torture him with the familiar face of Douglas Mordecai. He wondered why he had to deal with The Man on his own since no one cared about him and the only ones who ever truly had were long dead now. He wondered why his suffering went specifically and purposely unnoticed by very people who were supposed to protect him. He wondered why Mandark acted like he cared when they both knew he only wanted to shove Dexter into the unjust hands of the justice system the first chance he got, if only to get back to his precious scientists' club.

But most importantly, he wondered how the hell he was ever going to get out of this fucking house.

A/N: Let me know what you think so far!

Preview:

"**Hey Young, that boy's name was Dexter, right?"**

**Young looked up to see his partner looking at something in his lap. "Yeah, why, Mordecai?"**

**Mordecai held up the file he discovered. "I think I just found his file."**

"**What?"**

"**Yeah, at first I just saw a picture that looked like it was taken when he was a kid, and it was attached to this file."**

**Officer Young stood up and came closer to view the folder as well. "He has a file?"**

**Mordecai looked up at his partner. "Well, obviously that's what I just said." They both glared at each other like five-year-old siblings before returning to Dexter's file. Mordecai continued. "It says here that his family's house burned down some twelve years ago…. Whoa, it was the McPherson house."**

**Young flipped his sandy-blond hair out of his face as he took a closer look at the teen's file. "No way, I thought there were no survivors."**

**Silence reigned in the room-Young with dumb shock evident in his expression and Mordecai with a sad and regretful look in his eyes. Finally Young broke the tense quiet with a question that neither wanted to answer.**

"**Where has he been this whole time?"**

À bientot!

~theflawintheplan


	4. Chapter 4

Scarlet Signs of Death 4

Dexter and Mandark were currently sitting at in the kitchen, having lunch.

_Finally!_ Mandark thought. He was a little upset with Dexter, but mainly he was just relieved the boy was okay. He was a bit amazed at how quickly his feelings had grown for the boy in the three days since the teen had stayed with him. There was something about the redhead that seemed to silently plead with the man to protect him, even as the grey eyes constantly pushed him away. Mandark looked across the wooden expanse at Dexter who refused to meet his eyes—probably because the air between them had been tense ever since the Ginger was escorted back home after running away.

'_Speaking of….'_

"Why did you leave?" Mandark was surprised at the nearly hysterical and angry tone that screamed out from his throat. He thought he was calmer than that. Dexter blinked at the man, clearly surprised as well; though, it was not long before his indifferently blank expression perfectly masked his features. He only stared at the man, apparently not very interested in giving him a reason.

Mandark took a deep breath before he repeated the question. Dexter seemed to not want a kinder tone either, for he only shrugged as he kept his face schooled in the normal blank canvas he had learned over the years.

Mandark pressed, "Dexter you can tell me anything you want or need to. I want you to be comfortable here."

'_I want you to like it here….'_

But that particular statement went unspoken and Dexter remained silent as well.

The older male gave up then. He did not know what he could say that would make the redhead understand that he did not want to hurt the teen. Dexter turned his grey orbs back down to the table just as they were about to show his weaknesses. He continued eating as normal and tried to swallow his food around the lump in his throat. '_I never give you a reason to get close to me, so why? Why do you insist on caring about me…?'_ Didn't this man understand? Dexter could not get close to anyone. If he did, The Man would find him again.

Tears the slate-eyed boy thought had abandoned him years before pricked at his eyes like needles, but fortunately did not go any farther than that. He would beat this. He would not give in to this man who thought he knew him; thought he knew how to help and comfort Dexter. But even as he let this thought fill his head, he found he did not want the older man to give up. He wanted Mandark to care about him too.

'_Damn you, Mandark….'_

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

At the local police station, the air was unusually silent. Then again, most of the force was either on assignment, leave, or a lunch break. The two rookies who had picked Dexter up were sitting at their desks, taking advantage of the quiet as they went over various police reports from years before. Suddenly, Mordecai broke the silence.

"Hey Young, that boy's name was Dexter, right?"

Young looked up to see his partner looking at something in his lap. "Yeah, why are you asking?"

Mordecai held up the file he had just discovered. "I think I just found his file."

Young was surprised. "That kid has a report on him?"

"It appears so. At first, all I saw was a picture that looked like it was taken when he was still a young child. When I looked closer, it was attached to this file."

Officer Young stood and came closer to view the manila folder as well. "…He has a _file_?" He asked a little stupidly, still in disbelief that a kid would already have a file.

Mordecai looked at his partner and rolled his eyes. "Well, obviously that's what I just said." They both glared at each other like five-year-old siblings before returning to Dexter's report. Mordecai continued. "It says here that his family's house burned down some twelve years ago…. Wait, was that the McPherson home?"

Young flipped his sandy fringe out of his face as he took an even closer look at the teen's file. "No way, I thought there were no survivors."

Silence reigned in the room once more—Young with dumb shock evident in his expression and Mordecai with a sad and regretful look in his eyes. Finally, Young broke the (tense) quiet this time with a question that neither truly wanted the answer to.

"Where has he been all this time?"

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Dexter and the New Master were finished eating now and stood up from their places at the table. Dexter cleared the lunch debris and then the dishes and placed the latter in the sink, filling the basin with soapy water.

"Well, I'm off to work in the lab a little more." Mandark said, moving toward the door slowly. Dexter only nodded once, keeping his back turned. Mandark tried again. "You know you're welcome to come inside, right?" Another nod was all, but the man gave one more valiant effort. "In fact, if you want to help me today with my inventions, you're more than welcome to join me." He waited for a reaction, but this time Dexter did not give him the satisfaction of one. He sighed and left the room.

Only after he could no longer feel the older man's presence did Dexter turn and gaze at the spot where Mandark had been standing. Didn't that idiot understand? The redhead faced the dishes once again, grabbing an old scrubber and a rag. He simply could _not_ go in there and love science again. It did not matter what the New Master said or did.

He dipped the rag in the sink, scowling as the scalding water did nothing to burn away the memories, the _touches_.

The Man would not allow it.

Mandark bent forward slightly to enter the laboratory's small "doorway." He sighed as he lifted his lab coat from the broken-down robot, and was already deep in thought as he threaded his needle-like limbs through the sleeves. He watched desolately as his greatest invention, a robot that looked like, acted—even moved as fluidly—as a human, adult female **(1)**, was attacked and "killed" mercilessly by another (more mechanical-looking) robot that had apparently gone haywire. He wondered, as sparks flew from the Fem-bot in a Cirque-du-Soleil-esque fashion, if he would even make the deadline at this rate.

Or, a better question, if his utter incompetency would even allow him to help Dexter trust other people again.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

It was nine hours later. Dexter laid in bed, staring at the ceiling with his grey and very-much-awake eyes. He had not had dinner (mainly because Mandark had once again lost track of time in that oh-so-_fascinating_ lab of his), but it was fine by Dexter. He was not that hungry anyway and he did not know if he could spend another minute in that man's prescence. He did not want to admit to himself that his walls were crumbling rapidly in the wake of that man's annoying habit of making him talk and making him feel as though he were….

Dexter shook his head firmly. He did not want to feel equal or loved when he obviously was not. He was something less:

Unwanted.

Inferior.

_Inhuman._

He uncharacteristically groaned and shoved his face into the pillow. What was it with this Mandark Whatever-His-Surname-Was? Why did he want Dexter to suffer like this—? Abruptly, the boy's ears caught a faint sound and he quickly sat up in the bed.

Footsteps. Mandark was trudging up the staircase…. Dexter shifted to sit on his calves as he half-consciously leaned toward the door in an effort to hear Mandark's movements better. He was heading down the hall…. Dexter's heart beat a little faster with every step the man took….

He passed. Mandark completely passed by Dexter's bedroom door.

He scowled at the slight disappointment he felt and sat back, pressing himself against the wall. Why should the New Master look in on Dexter? Would he really drop by for a visit? And then what? Do some bonding? Play a couple of family games? …_Send Dexter away with the supposedly just justice system when he was done with his latest toy_…?

It was quite a while still before Dexter decided he needed a distraction from sitting quietly and staring blankly at the opposite wall and bedroom door. He slunk off of the mattress and onto his feet. He was disgusted at the faint pride he felt at his perfected "art" of exiting a bed as though he were never there in the first place. He opened the door without a sound and padded down the hall to the New Master's room.

"Mandark?" He called softly. It was the first time he had spoken since his attempted escape, and there was no answer awaiting his voice.

"Mandark? Are you…awake?" The last word was whispered—his voice was probably going to crack soon from the sudden use. Only silence replied and he turned away, heading back down the hallway and then down the stairs. He made his way to the closet door and then—

Nothing.

Dexter stood there, waiting for the small entrance into the lab to take away his fears, to take away his past, to make him normal again. He finally reached a pale hand toward the closet, but he stopped abruptly. He could not leap that ravine and make it over to the other side unscathed. Dexter retreated back to his room in barely suppressed anger.

He was wrong. The lab was not going to make anything easier or better.

The Man had won again.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

A man sits at his nicely furnished desk, gazing lustfully at each picture of a small child, all placed neatly under the glass plate covering his desk. At one in particular though, he stops and gazes down at it with a thoughtful frown on his face. One finger from his right hand suddenly lifts, suddenly starts toward the particular picture at a cautious pace. He does not want to experience those same damned emotions he knows he will if he—

The finger continues toward the small picture, toward The (Old) Child he likes the best. The tiny, confused face is caressed. The man closes his eyes in bittersweet pleasure as waves of memories crash around him. He opens his piercing blue orbs as his left hand rakes his raven hair in frustration at himself, and his right hand massages The (Old) Child's face as the fingers tap against the wood of the desk in thought.

Now, after his traitorous finger reminded him of his feelings for The (Old) Child, he misses him. The man misses The Child's presence and wants him back. He is sorry he chased The (Old) Child away.

"Polanski! Rasputin!"

Two of his hired goons materialize inside the office.

"Boss?"

His eyes flick over to their nervous gazes and he cannot help but smirk. He know his "family" realizes his authority. "I want you two to find him." There is no need for him to say the name—they know which child he speaks of. His quiet voice is hard and offers no kindness. "Don't return until you know where he is. I will take over from there."

"Of course, Boss." They scurry away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

It is dangerous and irritatingly repetitive, this attachment he has grown toward The (Old) Child. It is okay though, he will indulge these feelings a while longer and wait (im)patiently for his Ever-Serving Toy to return to his lustful master. A slow smile creeps across his face.

And Dexter will return soon. He will make damn sure of it.

A/N: Jeez, hopefully I did not lose many readers with this god awfully long wait. I know this chapter is choppy and a little rushed, but I needed to put all these things down in the fourth chapter. I'll rewrite this chapter for better flow when I have the chance to later. (Also, I realize Young and Mordecai seem immature and don't act at all like the officers they should, but that's how I want them to be.)

**(1) **So, this invention of Mandark's was shamelessly stolen from the old movie _Mad Monster Party_, if anyone recognizes Francesca.

Lalavava also appears in the next chapter, so _**since I'm only going to focus on about five stories at a time until my schoolwork dies down a little, vote on my profile if you want to see this story make it into one of the top five slots. Otherwise, I'll focus on other stories and come back to this one later.**_ I'm really sorry about this late update and I wish I had more time to devote to ALL my stories, but unfortunately, I can't at the moment.

Thanks for understanding your horrible fanfiction author,

~theflawintheplan


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